Sphinx's Princess (35 page)

Thutmose did so. He did it gently and graciously, without lashing out at his brother for barging into his presence and making demands. I sat on the floor, rocking Nava in my lap, awed by the man Thutmose had become.

“Where is he?” The mild-mannered Amenophis I’d known was gone. “Where is her accuser?”

“Our
brother
is there,” Thutmose responded, pointing to where Meketre cowered among the priests.

Anger transfigured my friend, infused him with strength and authority. He didn’t raise his voice when he faced Meketre; he didn’t need to. “Hear me,
brother:
I swear by the all-seeing light of Aten’s sun-disk, if any harm comes to Nefertiti because of your false words, you will regret it all the days of your life.”

Meketre began to cry. The chief priest curled his lip in disgust at the boy’s teary, snot-streaked face. “Take him away,” he said. Two of his underlings obeyed. “A fine thing, threatening a child!”

“I made no threat,” Amenophis said. “I made a promise.”
He turned to Thutmose. “We must send word to Dendera at once. Father must hear about this.”

“Brother, you forget.” Thutmose stood up, his arms crossed on his chest, the crook and the flail in his hands. It was the same commanding stance that I had seen on countless statues and paintings of Pharaohs who had ruled the Black Land in the past and then gone to join the gods. “Our father
is
here,” he said solemnly. “I rule in his name.”

“Then rule the way
he
would!” Amenophis exclaimed. “With justice.”

“What’s come over you, Amenophis?” Thutmose asked, his voice and demeanor unnaturally meek. “I’ve never heard you defend anyone so passionately before, not even yourself. Tell me I can still trust you. Tell me that you haven’t betrayed your own brother by stealing the love of my intended bride. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I—I—” Amenophis stammered, caught off guard by the accusation. “I’m only defending her because she’s been falsely blamed.”

The priest of Amun gave a short, cynical laugh. “You reject Meketre’s testimony as blindly as you fight for Nefertiti’s innocence. May the gods have pity on you, Prince Amenophis, for I fear you are the victim of this girl’s evil enchantments. Her beauty is undeniable. Coupled with her sorcery, it’s irresistible. She has enslaved you, poor man. Why else would you question the absolute authority your divine father, Pharaoh Amenhotep, has bestowed upon Prince Thutmose?” A sly look came into his eyes. “Unless this is your way of saying that
you
are more worthy to rule?”

“No!” Amenophis was appalled by the priest’s insinuation. “I would never—”

“Then
let
him rule!” The priest shouted him down.

The two brothers looked at one another. “Amenophis,
do
you believe that Father was right to let me speak in his name until he returns from Dendera?” Thutmose asked earnestly. Amenophis held his gaze and I counted five of my rapid heartbeats before Thutmose said, “You hesitate, my brother?”

“Traitor,” the priest muttered.

“Amenophis is no traitor!” I cried, and with Isis’s healing help the words were able to leave my mouth without bungling into one another. “I swear by Ma’at—”

“Be quiet, you!” The priest closed in on me. Nava gasped, her eyes rolling in terror.
Was this what it was like for her when they came for her sister?
I thought. I pressed her face protectively to my shoulder and met the priest’s furious look with one of my own.

“Stand back!” I commanded. “I won’t say another word if you leave us alone.”

“You
give
me
orders? Amun curse you for a thousand years, you insolent girl!” He raised his hand as if to strike me.

Acting as one person, Thutmose and Amenophis moved swiftly to shield me. Thutmose touched the ceremonial crook-shaped scepter to the priest’s chest. “Do
you
deny my authority, too?” he said. The priest bowed almost double, begging Thutmose’s pardon, and took himself to the far side of the little chamber.

Thutmose returned to his throne and resumed his imposing stance. “So, brother, do you think I acted well just now, or do you want to send a message to Father about
that
, too, to see if he would approve?”

Amenophis gazed at his brother with new respect, then went down on one knee before him. “Father was right to give you the power of rule in his absence. I am loyal to you both and I—I love you dearly. All I ask—all I
beg
of you—is that whatever judgment you give tonight will not weigh down your heart when you stand for your own judgment in the court of Osiris.”

“Judgment—” Thutmose repeated. He pronounced the word solemnly, sadly. “You speak as if I have a choice, but in this case, there can be none. I rule in our father’s name, according to the customs and traditions that you know as well as I. It is in his name that I must pass judgment, even if it breaks my heart. The penalty for sacrilege—”

I clapped my hands over Nava’s ears. I couldn’t,
wouldn’t
let her hear Thutmose utter the same verdict that had taken the life of her sister.

“—is death. The penalty for sorcery is death. The penalty for plotting the destruction of the divine one, my father Pharaoh Amenhotep—may his name be preserved and praised!—is death.” He leveled the flail at me. “So it must be.”

The guards came at me from either side. They hooked their hands under my arms and lifted me off my feet. Nava tumbled sprawling to the floor. She looked like a gazelle hearing the first distant cry of the hunt. She had no idea at all of what was going on around her, only that I was being
taken away. Amenophis was shouting at his brother. The other men were babbling excitedly over my fate. It was only a matter of time before my poor Nava overheard enough to understand what was happening and to hear my fate.

“Nava, go! Get out of here! Run back to the room!” I cried, struggling against my captors. I wanted her far away before it was too late.

“—Great Royal Wife’s own niece, his own
bride
, and yet he condemned her—”

“Nava, obey me!
Go!
” I went limp in the guards’ grasp, fighting for the chance to let Nava escape before she could hear—

“—to death!”

One of my guards lost patience and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of emmer wheat. As he carried me away, I heard a piteous howl rise up behind us, and then a voice that I had never heard so clearly before calling after me: “Nefertiti! Nefertiti! Don’t leave me,
Nefertitiiiiii!
” And the first words that completely broke Nava’s long silence ended in a storm of tears.

They put me in a room even more isolated than the quarantine apartments in the women’s quarters. I could tell that by how quiet it was, though I had no solid idea of where it stood because they’d dragged me there in the dark. It was very small, with a wooden door instead of a curtained archway, and a window that was so high and narrow that if a mouse could scale the outer wall, it would still have to crawl on its belly to get in. At least it was wide enough to let me watch a bit of sky. It was still the color of a crow’s wing, but the stars were already losing their light as the night began to seep away.

I had a mat to sleep on, a jug filled with water, and a tiny clay lamp that could hold so little oil that its light would never last me through a whole night. There was also a toilet stool—a wooden frame holding a large clay pot with a heavy lid. I hoped that my jailers would empty it often. I didn’t
want to think about how foul the air would get in that confined space when the heat of the day rose, even if it were kept covered.

I sat cross-legged on the mat, rested my head in my hands, and tried to make sense of what had happened to me.
O Isis, my head is spinning! I’m so happy that Nava can speak again, but what a dreadful cause for regaining her voice! And what will become of her now? Sweet goddess, help her. Bring Ta-Miu back so that everyone can see living proof that Meketre lied. Why did he do it? I don’t know him or that mean-hearted Amun priest; we’re strangers, yet both of them stood against me and did everything they could to drag me down. Why?
I stretched out on the mat and closed my eyes, intending only to rest long enough to sort through those mysteries with a clear mind, but instead I plunged into dreamless sleep.

“Nefertiti?” A soothing voice woke me. Daylight filled my small window and I saw Thutmose standing in the doorway of my prison. He still wore the
nemes
crown and looked as impressive as when he’d handed down my death sentence, but instead of the crook and the flail he held a garland of flowers. “These are for you,” he said, stooping to place them on my hair as I sat up, rubbing my eyes. He’d brought me roses.

I took off the wreath and laid it aside. “You’ve done enough. I can’t make you leave, but I wish you would go.”

“Not without saying what I’ve come to tell you.” He sat down beside me. “You’re not going to die.”

“Don’t do this to me, Thutmose. You were the one who pronounced my death sentence.”

“Nefertiti, I had no choice. Meketre’s testimony—”

“Meketre’s
lies!
Why would a boy I’ve never seen before want to incriminate me like that? I’ve done nothing to him.”

“Who knows? I was born and raised in this palace and even so, I’m still stunned by how many secrets it holds.”

“Now you sound like your mother,” I said with a sour smile.

“Instead of scorning her, you should thank my mother for your life when she comes home, Nefertiti. It’s because of her that your life is safe until my parents return from Dendera. Last night, after you were arrested and my brother took that crying child away, the talk began about when and how your sentence should be carried out.”

I felt as if I’d swallowed stones from the bottom of the river. “What was decided?”
Isis, make me brave!

“To wait.” Thutmose picked up the wreath that I’d set aside and took a deep breath of the roses’ fragrance. “I spoke for you, Nefertiti. I told them all: ‘Make your choices, carry out this sentence, but remember, you’ll have to justify it all on the day Pharaoh returns. You’ll have to tell the queen.’ ”

“The vizier said the same thing before I was sentenced,” I said. “All it did was enrage the chief Amun priest. He trampled on my words. I’m no sorceress, but I know that names hold power. He
burned
the name of Ma’at, Thutmose. If he doesn’t fear truth, why would he suddenly fear the queen?”

“Because this time,
I
was the one who counseled
caution. I’d pronounced your sentence, so I’d made it clear that I wasn’t speaking out of fear or—or love. I’d proved that I put the honor of the gods and the authority of Pharaoh first.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly; his eyes were sad. “The Amun priests are
very
pleased when we fear the gods. Fear makes us open our hands wider when we give offerings to the temples. The priests’ wealth and influence make them almost Pharaoh’s equals. They’re cunning enough to know that their best interests lie in working
with
the ruler of the Black Land, as long as he is also willing to work with them. They make bad enemies.”

“I know,” I said sullenly.

“They were the ones who woke me from a sound sleep with Meketre’s story. I immediately ordered my servants to search everywhere for Ta-Miu, but even when they couldn’t find her, I didn’t believe that boy’s wild tale. Like you, I thought she’d simply gone following the moon. All the same, I couldn’t simply send them away, not with that bloodstained dress in front of my eyes and Meketre’s testimony. It would look like I was turning my back on sacrilege and sorcery just because of how I felt for—” His fingers clenched, tearing away a handful of rose petals. “I
had
to bring you to judgment. The evidence
demanded
the sentence I pronounced against you. But because I did all that, the Amun priests trust my integrity. When
I
said we should fear the consequences of carrying out your sentence before Pharaoh’s return, they listened.”

I took the half-crushed garland from his hands and
placed it on my hair. “I hope she comes back,” I said. “I hope Ta-Miu shows that
who, me?
face of hers before another day goes by.”

“Of course you do,” Thutmose said, taking my hand in his. I didn’t pull it away. “You’d be saved.”

“That’s not the only reason I want her back.” I squeezed his hand. “It’s for your sake. I know how much you love her. I remember how it hurt you when your mother took her away from you. I don’t want you to go through that again.”

“You say such kind things. I think you have that gift because you were raised with kindness.” He sighed deeply. “I wish I could say the same.” His fingertips brushed the flowers, sending a few petals tumbling into my lap. “I’ve ruined this. I’m sorry. I’ll bring you a new garland tomorrow, something beautiful to sweeten your captivity.”

“I’d rather have something else,” I said. “If it’s permitted.”

“Name it and it’s yours. Remember, I speak for Pharaoh.” His face was even more handsome when he smiled.

“I want to send a message home, one that I
know
will get there. I want to let my family know that I’m all right.”